Diamondbacks are Forever
by Hawki
Summary: Oneshot: Diamondback tanks are quite persistant. Unfortunately, so are the maniacs who drive them...


**Diamondbacks are Forever**

"Haaah…the open road, the wind in my hair, universal domination…"

"What?"

"Yes, in fact, I do own the road."

General Ledbetter _could _have pulled rank. General Ledbetter _could _have told the driver of his convoy's only Diamondback to shut the hell up and focus on driving through this roadless area of Palombo Valley. General Ledbetter could…hell, he could do a lot of things, even without Tarsonis being invaded by the Sons of Korhal, the zerg and if garbled transmissions from New Gettysburg were to be believed, the protoss as well. But right now, as the sorry bunch of sods he was leading made their way through Palombo Valley, a.k.a. as far away from the zerg as possible, he wasn't really going to do anything. Just sit in the light reconnaissance vehicle functioning as a command car and listen to Sergeant Patmos yak on about God-knew what.

_If that bastard in the clouds even exists…_

Sanity had gone out the airlock long ago. That was why the remains of the 32nd Confederate Marine Division and assorted stragglers were making their way from Tarsonis City. That was why they just happened to stumble across a Diamondback prototype. That was why Patmos was the only one capable of driving the damn thing. That was why he'd assigned the tank to be his forward, considering it was the only completely intact vehicle. And that was why, as far as he could tell, they were about as far away from Fort Trust as he was from a sonic shower.

"Um, sergeant?" the general asked over the radio, noticing that the hover-tank seemed to be swerving. "Do you actually…well, know where you're going?"

"Hey, lay off me chief. Not all who wander are lost…some of us are just drunk."

"And are you?"

Patmos didn't answer. Maybe that was for the best.

"Sir, are you sure about this?" Lieutenant Sacramento asked, leaning over the LRV's front seats to talk with his superior. "I mean, well…"

"I know what you mean," Ledbetter murmured. "But I also know that we're effectively heading into unknown territory. If there's any trouble up ahead, the Diamondback has the speed and maneuverability to easily adjust to it."

"Ah, the open skies, wind at my back, warm sun on my…wait, where the hell am I?"

"Trouble up ahead…" the lieutenant snorted, gripping the wheel with more force than was necessary. "Sure that Patmos isn't the one _causing _it?"

"No, the zerg are. And until they stop causing trouble, I'm willing to accept drunken tirades."

"Or stim induced ones…"

Ledbetter remained silent. The CMC had an unofficial "don't ask, don't tell" policy as per legacies from Old Earth, and until now, he'd extended that to Patmos's actions. Yet now, he thought otherwise…alcohol was one thing. But stims? Take too much of the damn things and the Diamondback would likely end up attacking the marines before the zerg. And while Ledbetter was fully aware of the likelihood of death, he'd have preferred to go out in a slightly less embarrassing manner.

"Say, Patmos…" the general began, re-establishing contact with his forward scout. "This is kind of embarrassing, but, have you taken…well, anything in the past few hours?"

"Oh yeah. Stims, hab, even got my hands on some bog back in Tarsonis City."

"What? You can't be serious!"

"Oh, it is, it is!" Patmos wailed. "I'm a compulsive liar, I swear it!"

Ledbetter remained stationary. Bad enough that he didn't know whether the sergeant had taken anything or not, but his wails were cutting through him as easily as a hydralisk's scythe did through CMC armor. And just as unpleasantly…

"Sergeant, this is Lieutenant Sacramento!" the junior CO in the LRV barked, doing what his general couldn't. "I know that you're filth, not even fit for resoc, but-…"

"Hey man, I respect your opinion, as long as you keep it to yourself."

Sacramento fell silent in turn, gripping the car's wheel less tightly and having a look in his eyes that reminded Ledbetter of someone who'd undergone neural resocialization-a process that until now, he didn't fully support. But right now, in regards to the driver at the head of his column…he'd welcome it.

"Um, sir?" Sacramento asked. "This may seem impertinent, but is Sergeant Patmos suffering from…insanity of some kind."

"No," sighed Ledbetter. "He's not suffering from insanity…he's enjoying it."

Scratch that-as a series of whoops and yells filtered over the radio, it was clear that he was thriving on it. Apparently the zerg did that to people.

"Zerg man! The zerg have come! My reputation's preceded me again. Good thing it does, because then I'd always be late for appointments."

It appeared that Patmos had broadcast to the entire column, given that it was forming a line rather than a snake on its own. A line that might as well have been made of string given the sorry state of the vehicles in it, but a battle-line nonetheless.

"Alright Patmos," Ledbetter announced as the sound of the approaching Swarm did its best to drown him out. "You did good. Now get back to the front and-…"

"Negative sir."

"What?"

"Can't wait any longer sir. Revenge is a dish best served cold…so someone who's already dead, because you killed him out of revenge. I mean…ah, screw it!"

Yelling something about frying zerg with his railguns, Patmos shot forward. And in accordance, Ledbetter opened the column to open fire as well.

Maybe he could derived satisfaction from taking out the maniac himself.

* * *

_A/N_

_Yep, it's another oneshot where I've unit quotes as the basis for a story. Personally I think the Diamondback's gag lines aren't as good as some of the other terran units, but then again, beggers can't be choosers._


End file.
